You Can't Have Both
by RoxyLalonde
Summary: After he's jumped, a depressed Kyle has nowhere else to run other than to Stan. And romantic feelings can't be kept locked inside forever. But is Stan a two-timer? Style, Stendy. Candy and K2 in future chapters.
1. Guilt

**A/N: Hey everyone! I originally meant this as a one-shot, but I haven't written a fic in forever. This is going to be a story revolving around Style and Stendy**, **and if enough people seem to like it, I'll update weekly or twice a week. More possible parings in the future.

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"Oh, God...Goddamnit. It hasn't been like this for so long."

The thought of Kyle standing in the middle of his kitchen with the bottle of his anti-depressants was like an electric shock wave through Stan's body. Why hadn't he noticed before? Why hadn't he noticed how depressed Kyle acted. He had just shrugged it off; it was a cycle for Kyle. A trait, actually, that Stan admired about Kyle; his cycle through a philosopher stage, through his highs and lows, apathetic, he was just an emotional person.

Kyle did indeed get picked on a lot. But who knew that it could all pile up inside someone? Create a hole for the victim to fall into; a hole of numbness. Stan only intervened if he was around, or if someone tried to pick a fight.

"You didn't take the pills, did you?" Stan wiped away the orange curls that stuck to his best friend's forehead, searching for the forest green eyes that had always shined with joy. But Kyle continued to sob and gasp for air. Stan ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed away the tiredness that lingered on his eyelids.

Finally, Kyle composed himself and opened his eyes fully, though they were listless and didn't exactly meet the ocean blue eyes that longed for the contact of his.

"I haven't felt this way in so long..weeks, months. I can't go any farther on the dosage of my medication; I'm already taking the largest amount my body can handle. Fuck, Stan. They were all there, seeming to almost jump out from the bottle, wanting to all be swallowed. Promising me sleep that would take me away from here. But I couldn't even gather the courage to do that. I'm too much of a pussy to take my own life." Kyle bit his quivering lip. "I haven't said one word to them, so why would they do this Stan? Why? Do they not understand the consequences of their own selfish actions?"

Stan wiped away what tears he could spilling from Kyle's eyes, not wanting to push too hard on the purple bruises that were forming under his left eye and his cheeks. "I..I don't know, Kyle. Their assholes. Low-lifers." He paused. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there, though." Stan set his jaw and pursed his lips in a tight line, cursing the fact that he ignored Kyle's calls when he went out on a date with Wendy.

Kyle didn't reply. Stan didn't blame him.

Kyle sharply looked up at Stan and asked, "What would you do if I had taken my life tonight?"

Stan could barely handle the question. The air was knocked out of his lungs. "What kind of question is that!" He yelled. For once in his life, he was relieved that his parents were working late.

Kyle furrowed his brow and looked sharply at Stan. He quickly sat up and replied loudly, "A reasonable one! No one needs me, Stan. Not Kenny, nor Eric, though when did that fat bastard ever need me. My parents have Ike, so what's it to them if they lose of lousy failure of a son? I don't have a significant other like a regular guy. And you," Kyle paused and looked away, staring at the sheets his pale hands grasped so hard. "You have Wendy. You're riding on a football scholarship. You have others swooning over you, even just when you walk by. Friends and fans galore...Stan," Kyle shook his head and gave a weak laugh, "I'm worthless. Useless. Nothing."

Stan laughed, slid his blue hat of his head, shook his head and looked at Kyle with a sly smile. "You know what else you are?"

Kyle raised his eyebrow at Stan and sarcastically replied, "What else am I, Stan?"

"Incredibly," Stan leaned his head in closer to Kyle's with each word, "irrevocably, forever," his lips lingered mere centimeters away from Kyle's, "stupid." Stan gingerly cupped his jew-fro friend and kissed him lightly. Even if it was just a graze of each others lips, it was enough to send Kyle's heart leaping. Stan lifted his knees from the chair he was sitting in to the bed and didn't bother to stop until Kyle was depending on his elbows for support. Even Stan couldn't believe how bold he was being, but he couldn't stop now. "I need you, don't you see? I can only make it each day because of you. Do you think I actually like the asshole population of our school?"

Kyle stared disbelievingly at Stan, who was determined to get one idea though Kyle's thick head.

"Who is always there at my football games, all my practices? Sitting on the sidelines, cheering for me and supporting me?" Stan kissed Kyle more passionately this time. Pulling away for just a second, Stan whispered, "Who makes my day, every single fucking day? Whose smile lightens up my morning and evening? Whose fights with Eric the fatass makes me die of laughter? Who do I think of as my little successful jew doctor?" Stan couldn't control himself any longer. He was laughing like a maniac, ruffling Kyle's fiery orange hair. "I love you, Kyle. You're only stupid to me. Stupid for not realizing it sooner. I thought at least you would have figured it out by now," Stan smiled.

Kyle lifted himself higher on his elbows and kissed Stan shyly, taking his raven haired best friend's hand and intertwining their fingers.

"I'll be with you forever. I'll be by you forever. And I wouldn't want it any other way." Stan leaned down and gently kissed down Kyle's neck, repeating softer and softer with every kiss, _ I need you, I need you. _

Kyle believed him as he tried to hold in a moan. Stan needed him as much he needed Stan. He believed that, wholeheartedly.

Kyle was on the verge of slipping to his once-beloved sleep realm, his eyelids drooping, only to be forced open again so Kyle could see Stan's sleeping face. He had drifted off to sleep long ago, his hands holding Kyle at the waist. _He's too cute when he sleeps, _thought Kyle. He rested his head against Stan's chest and sighed happily. Before he could drift off to sleep, though, the soft humming vibration of a cell phone made him search the sheets.

It was Stan's. Unlocking the cell phone, Wendy's picture came up, with text underneath it._ Hey Stan! Just wanted to tell you, even if you barfed on my dress on our date, I'm over it. You're too adorable. I love you! Good night, Stan xoxo  
_

Kyle sighed and tossed the phone back down. He tried not to think of the guilt that was blooming like a flower as he slid back into Stan's arms. He tried not to wake Stan, but he failed as Stan opened his eyes, smiled, and kissed the tip of Kyle's nose.

"Don't forget, I love you." He said with a sleepy smile spread across his face. He fell peacefully asleep again, and so did Kyle.

Except, Stan wasn't the one going to sleep aware of the texts messages from Wendy that came every so often. Stan wasn't the one worried, skeptical about Stan's feelings toward Wendy and him.  
After all, he couldn't have both.


	2. Crystal Clear, Princess

**A/N: Thank you for the positive reviews/story alerts/favorite story alerts! I didn't think people would actually like it this much!  
Edit: Thank you ****StylexFTW for pointing out my mistake. Damn Word should realize that sentence did not make sense. Haha, thank you for the review, also.****

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Sunlight peeked through the blinds, illuminating everything in the bedroom of our favorite seventeen year old raven-haired boy, including the sleeping beauty that was awaking in his bed.

Kyle let out a groan as he rubbed his eyes and stretched, kicking the sheets in a hazardous manner. Sighing, he rolled over, expecting to see Stan, but was surprised when he didn't. He sat up and scanned the room before he jumped out of bed and opened the door. He was instantly met with the smell of pancakes, eggs and bacon. His stomach growled as he crept down the stairs, scared to meet the faces of Stan's parents. If it were the weekend, it'd be different. He peered into the kitchen, only to let out a sigh of relief.

Stan was leaning on a counter with a cookbook in his hands and a confused look on his face. Kyle smiled. The boy was hopeless. So hopeless in fact, that he didn't even notice that the toaster had lit a small fire inside. Stan yelled and threw the book on the floor, almost tripping over it when he went to shut it off. Stan fanned out the flames as Kyle held back the urge to start laughing uncontrollably. Stan pulled out two charred bagels and threw them in the trash, whistling to calm his nerves. Kyle headed back up stairs, making a note to skip breakfast this morning.

Making his way back into the room, he checked the clock. 7:05. School started at eight, and even though Stan's house was only five minutes away from it, Kyle quickly debated whether or not he needed a shower. He didn't have time to run back home to grab his backpack, or new clothes, so he came to the conclusion that if he didn't have his homework or clean clothes, he might as well be clean himself.  
He quickly stripped in the bathroom adjacent to Stan's bedroom. He didn't bother to check the temperature of the water, and was greeted by ice shards that made him give out a yelp. He put his hand over his mouth as he bent down to turn the hot water on and the cold off.  
Halfway through his shower, as he was rinsing off the shampoo, a cell phone started ringing. Kyle pulled back the shower curtain. Stan's phone lay next to Kyle's jeans and white T-shirt, singing the song "Love Like Woe." He cursed, realizing that he had left his phone at home, too. He instantly connected that it was obviously Wendy calling.

He didn't notice the door knob being turned until he saw the door actually opening. He quickly threw back the curtains. He could see Stan's silhouette as he picked up his phone. Even though they were separated by the shower curtain, Kyle stood nervously, embarrassed, forgetting what he had to do next in his shower routine. Stan walked out of the room to the hallway, not shutting the door all the way. Kyle could hear Stan faintly talking to Wendy.

Wendy. Stan's girlfriend. Or was she? What had last night meant? Kyle mindlessly reapplied shampoo, not realizing that it wasn't conditioner. He felt the guilt all over again, wondering what this meant for their friendship. Stan and Wendy's relationship. He suddenly felt awkward, thinking about seeing Stan now.

"Good morning to you, too." Stan laughed, though it didn't sound entirely real. "Oh really? I'm glad you were able the get the stain out without too much trouble…Your car won't start? Uh, Wendy, did you check if it had gas? Hey, hey! I was just checking! Valid question! Well, if you want to come over, I'm cooking breakfast right now. Though you'll have to hurry if you don't want to be late for first hour." He paused and cleared his throat. "My parents are gone, yeah, b-but Kyle's over, so…He came over this morning."

He didn't know why, but Kyle was slightly annoyed by the question Wendy must've asked; _Stan, aren't your parents already at work? So, does that mean we'll be alone? _He had the picture of Wendy in a usual, too-revealing shirt, smiling and twisting a piece of her long dark hair in her polished-pink finger. Kyle wanted to bash his head against the wall, realizing that whatever last night meant, and whatever it was causing, it was just a nuclear bomb, just waiting to explode at the right time.

"See you." He paused. "Love you too. Bye."

Kyle could hear the sound of Stan's footsteps, drifting off until he was left alone again. As he rinsed off the shampoo, he realized that he had really rinsed, and repeated. Fuck.

Drying off his hair, he had come to terms with reality, which was the fact that he would have a major jew-fro today. Hesitantly, he looked at himself in the mirror. He let out a low whistle. He had a black eye on his left and a scar on his right cheek. Not too bad, but the black eye was quite the shiner. It actually looked kind of cool, and gave him just a shred of badassery. Even if he lost the fight. He went to pick up his clothes, when he realized that only his pair of boxers were left. Confused, he looked around him, before wrapping a towel around his waist and going back to Stan's room, wondering if he had accidentally left them there, even though he swore he left them in the bathroom. He was stopped by Stan yelling downstairs.

"If you need some clothes, you can just wear some of mine. Just find something that fits, okay? I'm washing yours right now, I would have left your jeans but they had blood on them as well."

"Thanks, dude." He replied. He turned his attention on the bed, where two football jerseys laid side by side; one white and one black_. Oh yeah, the homecoming game is tonight. _He made another mental note to leave work early to make it on time for the game.

He raided the closet, picking out a random pair of jeans and throwing them on.

"Hey Kyle, can you bring down my jersey? I found an old one, if you want to wear that." He put on the black one, knowing how it was last year's jersey. It fit perfectly. He grabbed the white one and walked to the kitchen, where a smiling Stan stood over the kitchen table, happily eating a plate of pancakes drowned in syrup. Kyle also noticed that he was shirtless, and his old shirt was discarded on the table.

"Can you believe I actually cooked something? Dude, I don't want to brag, but shit, these pancakes are delicious. I'm a better cook than I thought I was." He smiled, his cheeks swelling with pancakes. He was too adorable.

Kyle tried not to laugh at the flashbacks of Stan burning a simple bagel. He praised his friend anyway, "You? Cooking? Whoa." Okay, so he wasn't the best actor. "And you didn't even burn the house down!"

Stan gave a weak laugh.

"They look delicious, but I don't really have an appetite this morning, so I think I'll skip." He threw the balled up jersey, purposefully making it hit Stan's head. Stan ignored it as he cut into the three layers of pancakes and raising his fork that was dripping syrup. It _did _look good, Kyle had to admit. He rolled his eyes playfully as he took a bite off the fork, putting his hand underneath to catch the dripping syrup before it hit the tiled floor. He reached for the paper towels on the table, when suddenly Stan held his hand, lifted Kyle's finger and licked off the syrup. Kyle's jaw dropped as his heart raced. The syrup was gone now, but that didn't stop Stan from sucking on his friend's finger. Kyle could feel his face getting red, only to be cooled by the gaze of Stan's dominant blue eyes that looked up at him. Stan smiled as he stopped sucking and released his grip, though Kyle kept his hand still in the air; lovestruck and dazed in the middle of the kitchen.

"Told you it was good. _Finger-licking _good." Stan smiled at his own pun. He pulled at the hemline of Kyle's shirt. "My old jersey looks good on you. Don't you think?"  
Kyle could only nod, intoxicated to be this close, this intimate again with his friend.

Stan rested a finger under Kyle's chin, raising it slightly. "Does it hurt? Looks pretty bad."

Kyle couldn't resist any longer. He leaned in, put his hand on the back of Stan's head and kissed him. He was beyond euphoric when Stan responded by putting his hands on Kyle's hips, kissing deeper, leading him backward against a counter. Without him thinking, Kyle's hands played with the sensitive skin right above Stan's jeans; massaging, rubbing, slightly letting his fingers peek through into his jeans…

"Stan! Staaaan!" The high-pitched voice of Wendy made both of the boys jump, rapidly separating each other. Stan's face had all the color drained from it, and Kyle's face was no different. Wendy. Fucking Wendy. He gripped the side of the granite counter, not caring that his knuckles were turning white.

Stan opened the door, and a bubbly-as-usual Wendy greeted him with a bear hug. "Good morning Stan!" She giggled, and Kyle's instinct was right; her shirt was so tight, her boobs were threatening to tear the shirt at any second. Stan hugged her back.

This wasn't right. But he didn't have time for pondering what this situation was going be in the future, for Wendy hugged him next. Less of a bear hug, but it still caught Kyle off guard. Once she stopped, Kyle said, "Well you're in a good mood." He didn't know if he had meant that in a nice way, or in a sarcastic way. He noticed that she carried purse. He noted that unusual, as she usually had Stan or someone always straggling behind her carrying all her stuff.

"You have a purse?"

"Oh, yeah! I heard about what happened and that you had a black eye, so I thought that maybe, I mean, if you were interested, I could help you cover it up?"

Kyle shot a glare at Stan, who was cleaning up his pancake mess with shaky hands. Kyle was ready to leave. He wanted to walk to school alone. He was beyond pissed at Stan. With a set jaw, Kyle said, "Ha, well, if you don't mind Wendy, I think I'll be going…" he trailed off as the soft touch of her hand met his. He looked down at her. She mouthed something. _Just come. Please._

"On second thought, sure." He said, puzzled on what was going on.

Her serious look melted, and her happy grin returned again. "I promise it won't hurt. Or be noticeable that you have makeup on."

Wendy shut the bathroom door behind her. Locked it, even. She tossed the bag to the counter before turning to Kyle. She pursed her lips in a tight line and put her dainty hands on her small waist. She shook her head and laughed.

"Kyle, I need to you to answer this nest question seriously. Kyle, do I look like someone you want to mess with?"

"…What?" He furrowed his brow. "I thought you were going to—"

"You should really learn to shut the blinds. Because that kitchen window faces the driveway, you fuckbag." She closed in on Kyle, who gamed up on her as well. Though, it didn't sink in what she meant until a few seconds later. He tried not to show his embarrassment. But honestly, he didn't know what to do.

"O-oh?" He cleared his throat, as if to clear his conscience. "Like what you saw? I might just have to charge you for seeing such a spectacular event."

Her face grew to a brick red. She looked fiercely at him, as if she were trying to burn two holes through his head. "Look, I don't know what the hell you think you were doing, but don't think it's going to happen again, okay? Don't try your fag moves on _my _boyfriend of two years. Do you understand that? Or do I need to dumb it down for you?" She slowly raised her fist. He grabbed it, and they both knew she couldn't beat him, even if he wasn't as tough as Stan.

"Crystal clear, princess." He said sarcastically.

She smiled. "Good!"

Kyle opened the door, already wanting to be done with the day. Before exiting, he turned back and asked, "Are you going to his game tonight?"

She was getting out lip gloss as he said this. She didn't bother to raise her head. "Nah. Can't. Other things to do."

He rolled his eyes. "You're one unbelievable bitch."


	3. From Bad to Worse

**A/N: This was going to be one long chapter, but I have an English project I need to do, so I decided I'd split it into two chapters. I might get it done today, because I am so hooked on writing this story, but I don't think I can afford another F in my English class, haha.

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"Fuck." Kyle knocked his knuckles against the white marble counter at a regular beat. A simple nervous tick. He had pressed the wrong numbers on the cash register for the fourth time, but even on the fifth try his mind wasn't completely on the subject of the customer. The customer, a tall blond with a body that had Kenny watching her bounce her baby on her hips instead paying attention to the salt he was completely pouring on to the table, shot Kyle a look.  
_Oh grow up, lady. You probably cuss while you have wild sex with strangers. Slut.  
_When the cash register showed the wrong item again, Kenny came running, pushed him aside and flashed a bright smile at the mother and magically typed in the correct numbers without even taking a look at the register.

Kyle clenched his jaw and pulled at his hair, a desperate attempt to clear his thoughts. He walked to the table Kenny was formerly stationed at, where a mound of salt sat and half-empty plastic bucket laid on its side.  
_Breathe, Kyle. Focus. _Kyle shoved all the salt back into the bucket, picking up a handful and throwing it over his left shoulder. He doubted it would stop his rolling bad luck streak, though. By the time he was done refilling the salt, Kenny and the blond had parted ways and stopped their outrageous flirting.

He dragged himself back to his spot behind the counter, where a curious Kenny lay waiting patiently, with a gentle smile across his face.

"Oh, Kyle. Kyle, Kyle, Kyle." He removed his yellow restaurant visor and scooted his chair closer to his prissy ginger friend, who was sitting, watching the clock. When Kyle didn't respond to his teasing, he put his hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Dude, seriously, what's up. You've been distant all day. Especially to Stan. You guys sat side by side at lunch, but you didn't say one thing to each other. Now, that's really a cause for concern."

Kyle let a long, drawn out sigh buy him time. Talk about a shitty-crappy-no-good-day. And fuck, it was only five in the afternoon. Only one more hour until Stan's game. He took a sip of his drink before he defensivly answered, "Why is it weird? It's not the end of the fucking world, or anything."

Kenny didn't take the bitterness to heart. "Because it's obvious you two would love to fuck each other until the break of dawn. Now, sexual tension can do odd things to people, but I don't think pair of friends with sexual frustration decide to stop talking to each other."

Kyle snorted. "Sexual frustration." He turned to Kenny. "You really want to know?"

Kenny rolled his eyes. "No, Kyle, I just wanted to fucking fill the wasteful void that is my life with the useless rambles and rants of a precious seventeen year old ginger who loves his best friend unconditionally." Kenny laughed and Kyle couldn't resist smiling.

"That might be the most poetic thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth." Kenny stood up and bowed as Kyle finished the rest of his drink.

Kyle bit his lip, not knowing where exactly to start. But he decided to start with the fight yesterday, moving to yesterday night. It was hard to believe that it was only last night. He skipped some details out of embarrassment, though the blush that spread across his cheeks and nose told Kenny everything he needed to know. Though he didn't skip the pancake part, he didn't look Kenny straight in the eyes, but Kenny was too busy anyways laughing at how Kyle was fidgeting in his seat. Ending with the scene between him and Wendy, he was on the verge of hitting someone.

Kenny was in the midst of lighting his cigarette when Kyle finished, when he slammed his lighter on the table. "What kind of fuckery is that?" He quickly lit it, took a drag, and blew it out as he shook his head. "I'm going to need a talk with Stan."

Kyle raised his hand. "No, no. It's okay. I mean, I plan to talk to him before the game."

Kenny didn't listen. "That motherfucker confesses his love for you to me, talks about jealous he was of Bebe what you two went out, for months, and now he's put himself in a position where he looks like a two-timing jerk." Kenny went to take another drag, but threw it to the ground and crushed it when he saw the manager walk by. "Talk about nerve."

"He confessed to you? How long ago?"

Kenny shrugged. "I dunno. About a year ago?"

"What about Wendy?" Kyle asked, confused. A year ago?

"I've been asking Stan about that since he confessed. He shrugged and said he didn't know. He said he didn't have the heart, and he wanted the perfect time to come so he could tell you. But he said things with Wendy...he couldn't explain it right. He said that you were for sure his first love and he was for sure he was gay. But there was something about Wendy. He said that she was just...on a different level. He didn't know how to describe it. But you should hear him talk about you. It's..it's crazy." Kenny smiled. "You've got yourself a little fanboy."

Kyle couldn't hold back his own smile.

"But look, you can't wait forever. You've got to confront him about this, don't just ignore it." Kenny checked the time. "Look, it's five-thirty. If you want to talk to him before the game, we've got to leave now." And with that, Kenny grabbed Kyle's hand and dragged him to the assistant manager's office. Kenny kicked the door opened, surprising the manager so badly Kyle though he'd go into a cardiac arrest and die sitting at his desk.

"We're out. Emergency. I'll get someone to cover. Bye!" Kenny raised a hand and waved good-bye as he walked out of the room to the frozen manager. He jumped over the counter, knocking over a register while still holding Kyle's hand.  
They were stopped at the door, though, by their favorite person on the Earth walking in with a broad hanging on his arm; Eric Cartman. Almost running them over, Kenny said his apologies, but stopped fully when he saw the girl hanging on his arm.

She wasn't much to look at, dressed in a large purple hoodie with the hood drawn over her head and a tight black skirt with fishnets. She was staring at the ground, uninterested in Kenny's wolf-whistle. Cartman shot a hard look at Kenny before he jerked the girl behind him.

"Move out of the way, you poor fag." He next looked to Kyle, then down at their entwined hands. He snorted and walked around them.

"That's a nice lady friend ya' got there!" Kenny said with a laugh.

"Fuck off Kenny! She's got no interest in a pathetic nothing like you." Kenny shrugged and pulled Kyle out the doors of their work, only to stop in the parking lot.

"Where's your car, dude?" Kenny asked.

"I walked here. Stan drove me to school this morning and work started right after..." But Kyle was left standing alone, talking to the wind.

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"Here comes the train! Choo-choo!" The blond prodded, but the baby continued to blow spit bubbles, entranced with his simple skill. She sighed and dropped her fork, exhausted. The lame dim-lighting and the absence of people, except for the handsome blond boy who had a tendency of yelling, only dampened her mood. She tried not to turn her attention to the short brunette boy who was making his way to the back of the joint. She had half a mind to go over to him and kick him square in his... No, no, she had sworn she was done with him, with that sleazy business. For good. Fuck that fatass and what he did.

"Hello!" She heard an excited, cheery voice call behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. She couldn't say she wasn't excited, though. The tall blond cashier walked smoothly up to her table, bending over and resting his elbows on the table to look at her straight in the eyes. He flashed a wide smile that she couldn't help but think of as adorable. But this guy had to be at least, from the looks of it, four years younger than her. She wasn't a cougar _just _yet.

"Hello, uh," she inspected his name card, "Kenny." She smiled back.

"Look, I know this is a bit sudden, but my friend Kyle and I are in a bit of a rush and we have no ride. If you could do us a favor and drive us to the high school football field, that'd be amazing."

So he was in high school? That made him _five_ years younger. She could be thrown in jail for statutory rape, or something. Ah, this was a disappointment. But that didn't stop her from putting her elbows on the table as well, letting her baby blue tube top show what all boys yearned for. Well, at least all straight ones, anyway.

"So, you need a ride? I guess I could do that for you. But I just don't give free rides out. Not even to adorable blondies like you, my dear." She ruffled his hair. She slowly led her finger behind the boy's ear, playing with his hair and his neck. "I'll expect something in return."

He looked uncomfortable. "Listen lady, I don't have all that much money..."

She laughed. "I'm not after money, hun." She raised her eyebrow and bit her lip, and he was hooked.

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"Make him yours! You can't wait on him forever." Kenny yelled from the black Chevy Camero that was eagerly waiting to find an empty spot and start the beginning of a wild night.

The blond crawled over Kenny to speak to Kyle, who was ready to walk away from the car. "Hey Kyle! What did you say that other boy's name was?"

"Stan. Why?"

"Oh. It just sounds familiar for some reason..." She laughed. She was a pretty girl, though slightly a ditz. "My mind's probably playing games on me, though. Anyways, good luck and thank you _sooo_ much for looking after Brandi for me!"

And with that, Kyle was left alone, standing in the parking lot of the football stadium as the black Camero sped out of sight, off to find a back alleyway somewhere. Well, he wasn't totally alone; he had a infant swaddled in a Terrance & Phillip blanket, sleeping soundly in a pink baby car seat.

Well, it _was _sleeping, until the halftime horn went off.

Fuck. He needed to find Stan, and quick.

_What did last night mean? What does Wendy mean?_


End file.
